


Into the Wild

by StorytellerOfTheClans (TheSilenceIsFalling)



Series: Warriors - The Prophecies Begin - Rewritten [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, M/M/M, characters will be added as I update - Freeform, warriors fix it, warriors fix it au, warriors rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9928853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilenceIsFalling/pseuds/StorytellerOfTheClans
Summary: Rusty was just a normal Kittypet before he started having dreams. Do these dreams mean something? Do they hold the keys to his destiny? He hopes so. The only way to find out? To enter the forest that stars in his dreams. He holds his destiny, and the destiny of the forest, in his paws.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have changed Spottedleaf's name to Dappledleaf, as I feel that this suits her more than Spottedleaf. This series is going to be a complete rewrite of the Warriors books as I feel that there is a lot that is wrong with it, mainly the inconsistencies, sexism, abelism and bad characterisations. This is a personal project that is important to me, as I absolutely adore these books, but I have trouble reading them sometimes as the problems in them irritate me. I hope that you can enjoy my writing! In the notes before each chapter I will tell you what I've changed in relation to the characters and their names/descriptions.

The half-moon glowed brightly, its fantastic light falling on the ground, turning everything a shining silver. The sound of a fast moving creek filled the surrounding forest. The rustling of the trees, and the gurgling of the creek was the only thing to break the silence under the half-moons light.

Movement in the shadows disturbed the peaceful and beautiful scene. From all directions dark lithe shapes crept towards each other the glowing rocks. Eyes flashed in the moonlight, claws glinting as they slid out from their sheaths. Everything stilled, and then, as if urged on by a silent signal, the creatures leapt at one another. Suddenly the silver stained surrounds were filled with the sounds of screaming and wrestling cats.

At the centre of the frenzied fighting, fur flying and cats screeching as claws met skin, a massive dark brown tabby tom pinned a, much slimmer, reddish-brown tom to the ground. The tabby tom raised his head triumphantly, digging his long sharp claws into the struggling tom beneath him.

“Oakheart!” the dark tabby growled, leering down at the defiant looking brown tom. “How dare you hunt in our territory!” the tabby hissed, digging his claws in more harshly, smirking when the red tom gasped with pain. “You and the rest of your toads know that the Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan!”

“Not after tonight Tigerclaw! After tonight Sunningrocks will become just another RiverClan hunting ground! Even now we out number you are your pathetic tree-dwellers!” the red tom, Oakheart, spat back, taking a swipe at Tigerclaw. As Oakheart spoke, a warning yowl rose above the fighting, sounding anxious and shrill.

“ThunderClan lookout! More RiverClan warriors are crossing the river!” Without identifying who raised the alarm, Tigerclaw turned towards the river, growling when he saw that the call was true. More RiverClan cats, their bodies sleek and wet from their swim in the river, were arriving. Without even stopping to shake out their drenched fur, the newly arrived RiverClan warriors hurled themselves into the battle.

Tigerclaw turned back to Oakheart, baring his teeth and glaring. “You may swim like fish, but you are your fish-brained warriors don’t belong in this forest!” rumbled Tigerclaw as Oakheart struggled and squirmed beneath him.

It was only the desperate and familiar screech of a ThunderClan rising above the sounds of fighting that drew Tigerclaw’s dark gaze away from Oakheart. Tigerclaw saw a wiry RiverClan tom pin one of ThunderClan’s warriors on her stomach. The toms fur was still dripping with water, and the she-cat, with her sleek mouse-brown fur fluffed up in fear, screamed as the tom lunged for her exposed neck. Tigerclaw hissed and raked his claws down Oakheart’s flank, a last warning to the RiverClan warrior, before letting go of the tom and leaping towards the screeching ThunderClan she-cat. With a powerful shove of his large paws, Tigerclaw knocked the wiry RiverClan warrior away from the she-cat.

“Run Mousefur! Quickly!” Tigerclaw ordered her, turning towards the RiverClan tom that had threatened one of his clanmates. Mousefur quickly scrambled to her paws, wincing when she pulled on the deep gash on her shoulder in her haste. She flicked her tail in thanks and then raced away, back to the camp.

As Mousefur raced away, Tigerclaw was locked in battle with the wiry tom. He spat with rage when the tom managed to slice his nose, causing blood to well up, falling into Tigerclaw’s eyes and blinding him. With a snarl he shook the blood from his eyes and lunged towards the tom, latching onto his back leg and sinking his teeth in as far as he could. The RiverClan tom squealed in pain, wrenching himself free from Tigerclaw’s grasp and running back to the river. Tigerclaw grinned triumphantly.

“Tigerclaw!” A yowl was heard, making Tigerclaw turn to see where it had come from. Tigerclaw saw that it had been a small red cat with a very striking tail that called had called out to him. “Tigerclaw this is useless! There are far too many RiverClan warriors. We’re outnumbered!” Tigerclaw snarled and shook his large head, ears flattening.

“No, Redtail. ThunderClan will never be beaten! We have to keep fighting!” Tigerclaw yowled back, leaping to the small red toms, Redtail, side. “This is our territory! We will not give it up to those fish-brained fools!” Blood clouded Tigerclaw’s vision again, making him shake his head impatiently, scattering the red drops onto the rocky ground. Tigerclaw loved the thrill of the fight, but having an injury on the nose or anywhere on his face was always such an inconvenience.

“ThunderClan will always honour your courage Tigerclaw, but right now we cannot afford to lose any more of our warriors. Tiger, we have to retreat,” Redtail urged, trying to persuade Tigerclaw that this decision was the right one. “Bluestar would never expect her warriors to fight against these impossible odds. You know that she cares about the safety of her clan above all else. She would not want us to die just to keep the Sunningrocks. Besides, we will have another chance to avenge this defeat.” Redtail met Tigerclaw’s gaze steadily. Yellow eyes met amber eyes, a battle seemed to happen between the two, before Tigerclaw turned his head away in disgust.

“Thank you Tigerclaw,” murmured Redtail, before he leaped onto a nearby boulder at the edge of the trees. “Retreat ThunderClan! Retreat!” he yowled. All at once the ThunderClan warriors wriggled and squirmed away from their opponents. They did not turn their backs on them, slowly retreating to Redtail, snarling and hissing as they did so. For a heartbeat the RiverClan cats looked at their retreating opponents, confused. Was the battle so easily won? Oakhearts triumphant cry broke the confused silence. As soon as they heard him, the RiverClan warriors joined in Oakheart’s caterwauling.

Redtail looked down at his warriors and sighed. He knew that many would have disagreed with the order to retreat. He shook his head and with a flick of his tail he gave the signal for the ThunderClan warriors to head back to camp. They dived down the far side of Sunnungrocks and disappeared into the treess.

Tigerclaw followed last. He heard Oakheart’s cry of “cowards! Run like the scared mice you are”, making him hiss in fury and embarrassment. He hesitated, looking back towards the bloodstained battlefield and the celebrating cats that stood there. With his teeth bared in a snarl, and his eyes narrowed into furious slits, Tigerclaw leapt after his clan, following them into the silent forest beyond.

 

A dark shape crept out of a hole in the rock, slowly moving to sit in the middle of a deserted clearing. The shape sat alone, staring up at the stars above them. The sounds of breathing and the stirrings of sleeping cats in the shadows surrounded the shape. The moon and starlight revealed that the shape was an old grey-blue she-cat. The moons beams made the silver on her muzzle shine and glow in the dark night.

A small tortoiseshell she-cat emerged from a shadow that stood at the corner of the clearing. Her pawsteps were quick and silent as she made her way to the old she-cats side. The two cats dipped their heads in greeting. The old she-cat was the one to break the silence. “How is Mousefur?”

“Her wounds are deep Bluestar, but she is young and very strong. She will heal quickly, as all young warriors do.” The tortoiseshell set herself down on the cool grass, right beside the old she-cat, Bluestar.

“And the others?” Bluestar questioned, glancing at the tortoiseshell from the corner of her eye.

“All of them will recover as well. We shall not lose any warriors from this battle.” The tortoiseshell answered, causing Bluestar to sigh.

“We are fortunate not to have lost any of our warriors this time. You are a very gifted medicine cat, Dappledleaf. I’m not sure what we would do without you.” Bluestar tilted her head again, gazing at the stars. Studying them. “I am deeply trouble by our defeat tonight. ThunderClan has not been beaten in our own territory since I became leader,” she murmured quietly. She flicked her tail before speaking again. “These are difficult and trying times for our dear Clan. Newleaf is late in its arrival, and there have been fewer kits born. If we do not get new warriors soon, I am unsure if we will be able to survive.”

“The twelve-moons are only just beginning,” Dappledleaf pointed out quietly, staring at her leader. “When Greenleaf comes there shall be more kits. There is always a surge in kits when Greenleaf arrives.”

Bluestar’s broad grey shoulders twitched, her ears twisting to show her anxiety. “Perhaps. But the training of our young to become fierce warriors takes time. Time we may not have. If ThunderClan is to defend its territory, our borders, then it must have new warriors as soon as possible.” Her gaze seemed to question the stars, as if asking them for the answers she needed. Dappledleaf followed her gaze, staring up at the swathe of stars overhead.

“Are you asking StarClan for answers?” meowed Dappledleaf quietly, gently. Both she-cats stared up at the glittering sky, looking for answers that did not seem forthcoming.

“It is at times like these when we need the wise words of the ancient warriors to help guide us. Have they spoken to you at all, Dappledleaf?” Bluestar questioned, her tone sounding tired heavy.

“No they haven’t. Not for some moons now.” She answered.

Suddenly a bright and shining shooting star blazed its way over the treetops. Dappledleaf’s tail twitched, he ears pricking forward and the fur along her spine bristled, her gaze fixed intently on the shooting star and its path. Bluestar’s ears pricked as well, but she remained silent and only fixed her gaze on Dappledleaf as she continued to stare up at the sky.

After a few moments, Dappledleaf lowered her head and turned to Bluestar, her eyes shining with the knowledge that had been gifted to her. “A message. From StarClan,” she murmured, her eyes becoming distant as she spoke what had been told to her. “Fire alone can save our Clan.”

“Fire?” Bluestar echoed, her voice sounding confused. “But fire is feared by all of the Clans! How can something so deadly and destructive save us?” she questioned, her tone anxious and tired sounding.

Dappledleaf shook her head, sighing. “I do not know Bluestar,” she admitted quietly. “But this is the message that StarClan has chosen to share with me, to share with us.”

The ThunderClan leader gazed steadily at Dappledleaf, her blue eyes now masking her anxiety and worry about the situation. “You have never been wrong before Dappledleaf. I will trust in your abilities as a Seer,” Bluestar meowed quietly. “If this is what StarClan has said, then I will trust in you, and I will trust in StarClan. Fire will save our Clan.”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed most descriptions. Names in this chapter have stayed the same.

Despite the enveloping darkness, Rusty could sense that something was near. The young dark orange tomcat’s eyes opened wide as he scanned the dense and thick underbrush. The place was unfamiliar to Rusty, but the strange and tantalizing scents drew him further in, further into the shadows. The growling of his stomach reminded him of his aching hunger, the thing that had drawn him into this unfamiliar place. He opened his jaw, letting the warm and sweet scents of the forest reach the scent glands on the roof of his mouth. The musty smells of leaf mold mingled with the tempting aroma of a small furry creature. With a flick of his ears Rusty confirmed that his prey was close. His mouth watered with the thought of the delicious prey that he was going to catch.

A flash of grey suddenly streaked past him, drawing Rusty’s attention immediately. He stopped and listened. He could hear its thundering heartbeat, or was that his, two tail-lengths away, hiding among the leaves that littered the forest floor. Rusty knew that it was a mouse he was stalking. The rapid pulsing of the small creature’s heartbeat, paired with its addictive smell, was all the information he needed to be sure of it.  Soon the rumbling and growling of his stomach would be satisfied. He couldn’t wait.

Rusty lowered his body into position, crouching and preparing for the attack. He knew he was downwind of the mouse, so there was no chance the small creature would be able to catch a trace of his scent. So long as he didn’t make any sound the mouse would stay unaware of his presence, until it was far too late for it to escape. He checked the mouse’s position one more time before Rusty pushed his back legs hard, launching himself towards the mouse and kicking up the leaves on the forest floor.

The mouse, hearing Rusty launch himself at it, bolted for cover. It headed towards a hole that was not too far away, and was sheltered by the roots of a tree. But before it could get within a tail-length of the hole, Rusty was on top of it. With a quick motion of his paws Rusty scooped up the mouse, flinging it into the air. The mouse landed, dazed on the leaf covered ground. It tried to run again after shaking off its dazed state, but Rusty grabbed the helpless creature with his sharp claws, throwing it into the air again, before leaping to catch it a final time.

Just as Rusty was going to put the mouse out of its misery, a noise roared nearby. Rusty looked around, startled by the sudden noise. His distraction allowed the mouse to scramble free of his grip and dart into the hole it had previously been trying to escape to. Rusty turned from his survey of the forest around him just in time to see the mouse’s tail disappear down the hole.

Angrily, Rusty gave up. There was no point in hunting now that his prey had been scared off. He turned around, searching for the source of the noise that had disturbed his hunt. If Rusty had the ability to set things alight with his green gaze, no doubt the forest around him would be burning brightly. The noise continued, becoming louder and more familiar as time passed. Rusty blinked open his eyes.

The forest and all of its tantalizing scents had disappeared, and in its place, Rusty found that he was inside a hot and airless kitchen, curled up in his bed. The light of the moon filtered through the window, causing shadows to dance on the smooth, hard floor. The noise that had awoken Rusty had been the rattling of hard and dry pellets of food as they had been poured into his bowl. Rusty realised he had been dreaming. It was a sad realisation for the young tomcat.

He lifted his head before sighing and letting it drop to rest on the side of his bed. He shifted when his collar pinched and rubbed his neck uncomfortably. In his dream there had been no collar, only the wind ruffling the soft fur of his neck. He longed for that. Rusty rolled onto his back, staring up towards the ceiling and savouring the remnants of his dream for a little while longer. He could still smell the mouse and the scents of the forest faintly. This was the third time since the full moon that Rusty had had a dream like this, and each time the mouse had just escaped his grasp due to the noises of reality. It was really beginning to frustrate him.

From his bed he could smell the bland scent of his food. He wrinkled his nose and sighed. His owners always refilled his dish before they went to bed, but sometimes he wished they would give him something other than those dry bland pellets. The dusty smell chased away what scents were left over from the dream, but the hunger from before rumbled on. Rusty stretched out his limbs, shaking off the last remnants of sleep, before hopping up and making his way towards his bowl on the other side of the kitchen. As usual, the food felt dry and tasteless on his tongue. He reluctantly ate a few more bites of the food before he turned away and pushed his way through his cat flap. He hoped that the smell of the garden would bring back the scents and feelings that he experienced in his dream.

The moonlight was shining bright as Rusty emerged from the cat flap. It was drizzling slightly, the moonlight turning the rain silver. Rusty lifted his head towards the moonlight, enjoying the feel of the light rain hitting his fur. He stalked down the tidy garden, following the moonlit gravel path to the bottom of the garden. Rusty loved the feeling of the sharp and cold stones beneath his paws. It reminded him of some of the dreams. He made his dirt underneath the large bush with the sickly sweet smelling purple flowers. The smell of the flowers caused him to sneeze. He shook his head and curled his lip to drive the smell form his nose.

He shook the smell of the bush from his pelt and leapt onto the top of the fence that marked the limits of his small garden, settling down on one of the posts. This was his favourite spot. He could see out beyond his own garden into the others that surrounded his, and he could gaze out into the forest that sat on the other side of his garden fence.

Rusty noticed that the rain had stopped. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, taking in the scents of freshly fallen rain, and the scents of the forest beyond. The close-cropped lawn behind him was bathed in moon and starlight, but beyond his fence the forest was full of shadows and quiet, muffled, noises. Rusty took another sniff of the damp air, leaning forwards towards the shadowy forest. His skin was dry and warm, but Rusty could feel the weight of the sparkling raindrops on his dark orange fur.

Rusty’s ears flicked to listen to the sound of his owners calling to him one last time. He turned towards them and thought for a moment. If he went to them now they would greet him with gentle sounds and caresses, and they would welcome him into their bed. He enjoys curling up in the crook of a bent knee, purring at the feeling of warmth and safety he would get from doing so.

For the first time since he had come here, Rusty ignored the call of his owners. He turned his head away from them and directed his gaze back to the forest. He noticed that the smell of the woods had grown sharper and fresher now that the rain had stopped.

Rusty suddenly got the feeling of being watched. The fur along his spine bristles as Rusty stared ahead intently. Was something in the shadows watching him? Was something moving, hidden by the shadows? Rusty pushed his senses, searching for what was giving him this feeling, but he couldn’t see, hear or smell anything. The dense shadows of the forest and its overwhelming scents masked anything and everything from him. Rusty lifted his chin, boldly and proudly, standing up and stretching. One paw grabbed each edge of the post as Rusty arched his back. When nothing happened he relaxed slightly, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of the forest again. It seemed to call to him, to tempt him forward and beyond, into the whispering shadows of the forest. He tensed, crouching low on the post. His eyes opened as he stared at the tempting tree-line, before he jumped down onto the grass on the other side of the garden fence, landing lightly on the rough grass. His collars bell rang out loudly in the still night air. His tail raised, and his nose quivered. Did he dare? Did he dare venture into the dark shadows of the forest?

“Where are you off to, Rusty?” meowed a familiar voice behind him, jerking him out of his thoughts. He looked up, spotting a young and plump black and white cat standing unsteadily on the fence above him.

“Hey Smudge,” Rusty replied, sitting down on the grass and staring up at his friend.

“You’re not going out into the forest are you?” Smudge fixed his wide amber eyes on Rusty, looking horrified at even the thought of going out into the forest.

“It’s just for a look, promise,” answered Rusty, smiling at Smudge and slowly edging his way to the tree-line.

Smudge shook his head, nearly toppling off the fence, before saying, “You wouldn’t get me in there! It’s dangerous in there!” he wrinkled his dark nose with distaste. “Henry said he went into the forest once.” Smudge lifted his head, gesturing with his nose to the garden in which Henry inhabited. Smudge sat down on the fence, looking rather uncomfortable at his choice of seating.

Rusty rolled his eyes disdainfully. “That fat old tabby never went into the forest! He’s too scared to even walk along the fence closest to the tree-line!” Rusty scoffed. “We both know that he’s hardly been beyond his own garden ever since his visit to the vet. Now all he wants to do is eat and sleep in the sun. That old fur ball never set foot in the forest in his life.” Rusty stood up, pacing agitatedly below Smudge.

Smudge shook his head. “No really! He says he caught a robin there!” He insisted.

“Well, if he did, then it was way before his visit to the vet. No he actually _complains_ about the birds because they disturb his dozing.” Rusty rolled his eyes at the last part, his voice turning scornful. What was the point in lazing about all day when you could be out in your garden, enjoying the sunshine and watching the birds as they fluttered about, just out of your reach?

“Well, anyway,” Smudge went one, looking uncomfortable at the scorn with which Rusty talked about their mutual neighbour, “Henry told me there are all sorts of dangerous animals out there! Huge wildcats that eat live rabbits for breakfast and who sharpen their claws on old bones!” Smudge’s voice took on that tone that cats get when they’re telling a story. Rusty thought that Smudge was trying to imitate Henry’s voice as he regaled the neighbourhood kits with tall-tales and stories. He rolled his eyes affectionately at Smudge. The cat was always more kittish than most of the other cats in their neighbourhood.

“I’m only going for a look around,” Rusty meowed, trying to reassure Smudge. “I won’t stay long.”

Smudge still looked worried, but nodded his assent. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! Watch out for those wild cats!” meowed Smudge. The black and white cat turned and slid down off the fence, back into his own garden. Rusty shook his head at his friend’s behaviour.

Rusty sat back down on the rough grass and stared into the forest, his tail twitching nervously. He gave himself a quick wash, trying to smooth down his nerve ruffled fur as he wondered how much of Smudge’s gossip was true. He may have acted brave before, when Smudge was around, but now that he was alone with his thoughts, alone with the shadows of the forest, he couldn’t ignore his hesitations about going into the forest.

The movement of a tiny creature distracted him from his thoughts. He watched the creature scuttle under some brambles, hurrying about in its search for food.

Instinct was what drove Rusty to drop low to the ground in a crouch. With one slow and careful pawstep after another, he slowly drew his body forward through the undergrowth. His attention was solely fixed on the creature, ears pricked, nose flared and quivering, eyes unblinking. He could see the creature clearly now. He watched as it sat up among the barbed branches, nibbling on a large seed held between its front paws. The creature was a mouse.

Rusty rocked his hips from side to side, his tail swishing softly against the ground, as he prepared to leap. He held his breath and hoped that his bell wouldn’t ring again. Excitement coursed through him, making his heart pound frantically. Rusty feared that the mouse would hear it because it was so loud, but the mouse didn’t seem to take any notice of his thundering heart. This was so much better than his dreams! The scents, the sounds, the feeling of it all! It made him wish he could always do this. The sudden noise of cracking twigs and leaves caused him to jump, breaking the spell that Rusty had been under. His bell jingled loudly and treacherously, alerting the mouse to his presence. Rusty watched as it raced away into the thickest part of the bramble bush.

Rusty felt disappointment course through him. Just like his dreams, he never got to catch the mouse. Maybe it was a sign. The sound that had startled him before occurred again, drawing him out of his disappointment. Rusty stood very still, looking around and trying to find out where the noise had come from. Not far ahead he could see the white tip of a bushy red tail trailing through the underbrush. The scent that greeted him when he lifted his nose towards the odd fur was strong and strange. He could tell that the scent belonged to a meat-eater, but he knew that it wasn’t a dog or a cat. The scent distracted him from his failed hunt, and the strange tail held his attention. He was curious. He decided to get a better look at what was connected to the strange red tail.

All of Rusty’s sense strained ahead as he slowly prowled forward. If he could just get close enough to snag the red fur… A noise distracted him from his stalking. He flicked his tail, irritated. He got distracted really easily, he realised. He swivelled his ears backward, pausing in his forward pursuit, so that he could hear the noise. What was that noise? _Are those…_ _pawsteps?_ he wondered as he kept his eyes fixed on the strange red furred tail up ahead. He shook off thoughts of the muted and distant noise of pawsteps and started to creep forwards again. He wouldn’t be distracted again. He didn’t realise he was in trouble until the once faint rustling behind him suddenly became loud and fast-approaching.

The fast moving creature hit him like an explosion, causing Rusty to be thrown sideways into a clump of nearby nettles. Yowling and screeching, Rusty tried to twist and struggle away from the attacker, or to at least throw the attacker off so that he could have a chance to escape, but the creature had fastened itself onto his back, sharp claws gripping him tightly. He could feel sharp teeth pricking at his neck, trying to catch a hold of his fur. He squirmed from head to tail-tip, and yet he could not free himself. The creatures grip was far too strong for him to wriggle out of. He felt utterly helpless. He had never been in a fight like this before. Sure, most other housecats would sometimes fight over the best position on the fences when the sun was out or get into little spats, but this was far different. Fear made him freeze, and then his brain kicked into overdrive. He _had_ to get out of this. A thought struck him, and Rusty quickly flipped over onto his back, ignoring the voice screeching at him in the back of his mind, telling him that exposing his soft belly would mean his death, but it was his only chance. If this didn’t work then Rusty had no idea how he would get out of this.

Rusty was incredibly lucky. His ploy seemed to work as he heard a “huff” beneath him as the breath was knocked out of his attacker. He thrashed fiercely, just managing to escape the grip of his attacker. Without looking to see what had grabbed him, Rusty sprinted towards his home, towards safety.

Behind him Rusty could hear the rush of pawsteps as his attacker scrambled to its feet and chased after him. His attacker was giving chase, and this made Rusty run faster, his paws pounding against the ground as he tried to reach safety. Even the pain from the scratches didn’t halt his pace. As the fence came into sight, Rusty decided that he would rather stand and fight, rather than run away scared with his tail between his legs.

Rusty skidded to a stop, his breathing heavy as he spun around to face his pursuer.

He was surprised when another kit stumbled out of the undergrowth after him. This kit had long shaggy grey fur, and a dark stripe that flowed down its back and ended at the tip of its tail, and by the smell of it, _it_ was actually a _he_. The kits strong legs and broad face were the last thing Rusty saw before the other kit rammed into him at full pelt, his broad shoulders bunching as the kit fell back into a heap. He looked dazed and surprised, confused by the fact that Rusty had turned to face him.

The impact of the other kit had knocked the breath out of Rusty, causing him to stagger. He quickly found his footing again and arched his back. He puffed out his dark orange fur and tensed, ready to spring at the other kit at the slightest sign of aggression. He was oddly disappointed when the other kit simply sat up and began to lick his forepaw, totally chill and non-aggressive. Here Rusty was, tense and ready for battle, and this other kit as just sitting there! Talk about anti-climactic.

“Hi there, kittypet!” Meowed the young grey tom cheerily. “You sure put up quite a fight for a Twoleg pet.” The young tom placed his paw delicately back on the ground and watched Rusty with calm dark eyes.

Rusty remained arched and tense for a moment, debating with himself on whether he should attack or not. He then remembered the strength he had felt in the grey kits large paws when he had been pinned to the ground and thought better of it. He cautiously loosened his tense muscles and unbent his spine. He didn’t sit, but stood loosely, ready to bolt if the other kit decided to attack him again. “And I’ll fight you again if I have to,” Rusty growled, trying to scare the other kit into not attacking.

The other kit levelled him with an unimpressed gaze before speaking again. “I’m Graypaw, by the way,” the grey kit went on, totally ignoring Rusty’s threat. “I’m training to be a ThunderClan warrior!” The grey kit, Graypaw, said with an excited shine to his eyes.

Rusty remained silent, not offering his name. He didn’t understand what this kit was meowing about, but he sensed that the danger from him had passed. He hid his confusion by licking the ruffled fur on his chest.

“What’s a kittypet like you doing out in the forest anyway? Don’t you know it’s _dangerous_?” asked Graypaw, widening his eyes dramatically as he meowed the word dangerous. Rusty looked at him, bemused. He sounded like Smudge.

“Listen, if _you’re_ the most dangerous thing out here in the forest, then I think I’ll be fine.” Rusty bluffed, puffing out his chest.

Graypaw just looked at him for a moment, not believing Rusty’s posturing. The large kit narrowed his large dark eyes at Rusty. “Oh, believe me, I’m far from the most dangerous creature out here in the forest. If I were even half a warrior, I’d have given and intruder like you some real wounds to think about in your Twoleg nest.”

Rusty felt a surge of fear at those ominous words. What did this cat mean by “intruder”? What was Rusty intruding on? Had he crossed a border that wasn’t supposed to be crossed? A surge of anxiety made Rusty shift uncomfortably. Maybe he would find out soon.

“Anyway,” meowed Graypaw, using his sharp looking teeth to tug a clump of grassfrombetween his claws. Despite his earlier aggression, Graypaw looked totally unconcerned by Rusty’s presence. That irked Rusty slightly. Did this cat not see him as a threat? “I didn’t think it was worth hurting you. It’s obvious that you aren’t from any of the other Clans.” Rusty looked at the other kit, confused. What did he mean by other Clans?

“Other Clans?” Rusty echoed, letting his confusion show in his tone.

Graypaw let out an impatient hiss, obviously scornful of Rusty’s lack of knowledge. He felt annoyed that he was somehow expected to know everything about the forest when this was his first time entering the forest. “You must have heard of the four warrior Clans that hunt around here! I belong to Thunderclan. The other Clans are always trying to steal prey from our territory, _especially_ ShadowClan. They’re so fierce that they would have ripped you to shreds, no questions asked!”

Graypaw paused to spit angrily for a moment, obviously furious at even the thought of some other Clan coming to take his prey, before continuing. “Those flea-brains come to take prey that is rightfully ThunderClan’s. It’s the job of the ThunderClan warriors to keep them out of our territory. Once I’ve finished my training I’ll be so dangerous, I’ll have the other Clans shaking in their flea-bitten skins! They won’t dare come near us once I’m a warrior!”

Rusty narrowed his eyes, his head tilting to the side. This must be one of those wildcats that Smudge tried to warn him about! Living rough out in the forest, hunting and fighting each other for the last scrap of food. Despite Smudge’s wild tales about these wildcats, Rusty didn’t feel afraid. How could he, when this kit was so confident and proud of what he was? Instead of fear, Rusty found that he admired this kit. “So you’re not a warrior yet?” Rusty meowed, curious. This kit already had so much strength in his frame, what would he be like if he was an actual warrior?

“Did you think I was?” Graypaw purred proudly, kneading the ground as he preened. He shook his wide, fluffy head. “No I’m not a warrior yet. I won’t be a warrior for ages yet. I have to train first! Kits have to be six moons old before they can even _begin_ their training! Tonight was my first night out as an apprentice.” The other kit looked excited about sharing his knowledge. Rusty thought that Graypaw didn’t get to talk about this with anyone, and so was now taking the opportunity to show off his knowledge.

“Why don’t you find yourself an owner instead? Life would be much easier for you if you find a nice warm house to live in,” Rusty meowed, honestly curious. What drove this cat to live so rough? “I know that there would be plenty of housefolk that would take in a kit like you. All you have to do is sit around for a few days and look hungry and they-“

“And they’d feed me hard pellets that look like rabbit droppings and soft slop in place of real meat!” Graypaw interrupted. “No way kittypet! I can’t think of anything worse than being one of _you_! You’re nothing but Twoleg toys! You eat stuff that doesn’t even look like food, you make dirt in a box of gravel, and you only go outside when your Twolegs let you! That’s no life for a cat! Out here its wild, you’re free. We can come and go as we please.” He finished, sitting back down. During his impassioned speech Graypaw had stood up, his passion unable to be expressed properly when sitting. He added, “Until you’ve tasted a freshly killed mouse, you haven’t lived. Have you ever tasted mouse?”

“No,” Rusty admitted slowly, quickly adding, “Not yet at least.”

Graypaw shook his and looked at Rusty with pity. “I guess you’ll never understand.” Graypaw sighed. “You weren’t born wild. It makes a big difference. You have to be born with warrior blood in your veins, or the feel of the wind in your fur, or the feel of leaves under your paws. You cats born in the Twoleg nests could never feel the same way.”

Rusty remembered the way he had felt in his dreams, the rush of feeling the wind in his fur and the thrill of the hunt. He knew that Graypaw was wrong. “I don’t think that’s true.” He meowed softly, gazing at the forest around him. He knew what Graypaw was describing felt like. Perhaps not in reality, but in his soul he knew.

Graypaw didn’t respond. Rusty noticed that Graypaw had stiffened, a paw still raised in preparation for cleaning. He sniffed the air, his ears swivelling frantically as his nose twitched. “I smell cats from my clan,” he hissed. Fear surged through Rusty. “You should go. They won’t be pleased to find you hunting in our territory! They won’t be pleased to find me talking to you either!”

Rusty looked around, realising that Graypaw’s senses must be sharper than his, because he couldn’t smell or hear anything that would mean the approach of more cats. Despite not being able to sense anything himself, the urgent tone of Graypaw’s voice made his fur stand on end.

“Quick kittypet!” Graypaw hissed again, gesturing for Rusty to move his tail. “Run you mouse-brain!”

Rusty frantically looked around, trying to figure out what would be safest way to jump. He realised he was too late when a firm and menacing voice meowed behind him. “And what is going on here?”

Rusty froze, his eyes closing briefly as he realised there was no chance of him escaping now. He turned, watching as a large grey-blue she-cat strolled majestically out from the underbrush. His eyes widened as he gazed at her. She was magnificent. White hairs streaked her muzzle, and a painful looking scar parted the fur across her shoulders. The moonlight made all of the she-cats scars shine brilliantly, and her sleek and fluffy fur looked like starlight. Rusty stared in awe. Was this another wildcat?

“Bluestar!” Beside Rusty Graypaw had crouched down, his eyes narrowed and lowered. His tail drooped and he crouched even lower when a second, just as awe-inspiring, cat followed the she-cat into the small clearing. This cat’s fur was looked like gold. The powerful shoulders and strong legs showed that this cat was a skilled fighter. This was further proven by the few nicks and scars that marred the gorgeous tomcat’s coat. _Are all wildcats so handsome?_ Rusty thought to himself. This cats orange eyes were intense as their angry gaze locked onto Graypaw.

“Have I not told you about going so close to Twoleg place, Graypaw?” growled the golden tomcat, his orange eyes looking intensely at Graypaw. Graypaw’s ears flattened as he looked away from the toms intense glare.

“I know Lionheart. I’m sorry.” Graypaw hung his head, focusing his eyes on his paws.

Rusty looked on, watching the interaction between the three cats. What was wrong with going near the houses, Rusty wondered. After a moment, Rusty copied Graypaw’s crouch. He didn’t want these cats to think that he wanted to start a fight. Rusty knew that, without a doubt, he would never survive an encounter with these cats. These cats exuded strength, something that none of his garden friends had ever done. Rusty now realised that he maybe should have listened to Smudge after all.

“And who is this?” asked the cat that Graypaw had identified as Bluestar. Rusty flinched as she turned her gaze on him. Her sharp and intelligent blue eyes pierced him to his very soul, causing him to feel even more vulnerable in the presence of these two obviously dangerous cats.

“He’s not a threat,” mewed Graypaw, talking before Rusty could even think of what to say. “He’s not another Clan warrior. He’s just a Twoleg pet from beyond the territories.”

 _Just a Twoleg pet!_ The words angered Rusty, but he decided to hold his tongue when he glanced at the two older cats. The golden warrior, Lionheart, hadn’t even looked at him yet, only focusing on Graypaw, but the warning look that Bluestar shot Rusty told him that she had seen his anger. He looked away, muffling his anger. Now was not the time to act rashly.

“That’s Bluestar; she’s the _leader_ of my Clan!” Graypaw hissed to Rusty under his breath. “And the golden cat is Lionheart. He’s my mentor! That means he’s training me to be a ThunderClan warrior!”

Lionheart stared harder at Graypaw, and glanced at Rusty before meowing, “Yes, thank you for the introductions, Graypaw.” Graypaw flicked his tail, embarrassed by his mentor’s sarcastic tone.

Rusty noticed that Bluestar was still staring at him. Her gaze seemed to look right through him. It made him nervous. “You fight well for a Twoleg pet,” she pointed out, making Rusty fill with pride. Then he was confused. He exchanged a look with Graypaw and saw that he was just as confused. How did she know?

“We have been watching the both of you,” Bluestar continued, as if she had read their thoughts. Rusty wondered if that was something wildcats could do. “Both Lionheart and I wondered how you would deal with an intruder, Graypaw. You attacked the kittypet bravely.” Graypaw looked pleased at Bluestar’s praise, shuffling his feet in an effort not to puff his chest out proudly.

“Sit up,” Bluestar ordered, looking at Rusty and adding, “You as well kittypet. Oh, while we’re at it, you may as well tell us your name. We cannot keep referring to you as kittypet after all.” Rusty sat up, holding Bluestar’s gaze steadily as she addressed him.

“My name is Rusty.” Rusty answered, dipping his head slightly. Bluestar nodded and said, “You reacted well to the attack, Rusty. Graypaw is far stronger than you, but instead of trying to best him in a battle of strength you used your wits to defend yourself. You also turned to face him when he chased you, despite your obvious fear. I have not seen a kittypet do that before. You have impressed me.”

Rusty managed to nod his thanks, completely taken aback by the unexpected praise. He had impressed a wildcat! Bluestar’s next words surprised him even more.

“I have been wondering for quite some time how you would fare out here in the forest, beyond the Twolegplace. We patrol this part of our borders frequently, and I have often seen you sitting on your boundary, gazing out into the forest. And, finally, you have dared to place your paws here.”  Bluestar gazed at Rusty thoughtfully. “You do seem to have a natural hunting ability. While your stance betrays your novice skills, you have sharp eyes and strong limbs. Had you of not hesitated for so long you would have caught that mouse.”

“I-, r-really?” Rusty stammered, surprise colouring his tone. When he stepped paw into the forest earlier that night, he certainly was not expecting to be praised by the wildcats that Smudge had been so terrified of and had warned him about.

Lionheart spoke now, his meow deep and respectful, but insistent as he addressed his leader. “Bluestar, this is a _kittypet._ He should not be hunting in ThunderClan territory in the first place. Send him home to his Twolegs!” While the golden warrior’s voice was not outright scornful, Rusty could still hear the dismissive tone in it. It made Rusty angry.

“Send me home?” he mewed impatiently. Bluestar’s words had made him glow with pride. She had noticed him; she had been impressed by him, and this other cat was just plain scornful of him, all because he was a housecat! “But I’ve only come here to hunt for a mouse of two. I’m sure there’s more than enough to go around!”

Bluestar had turned her head to acknowledge and address what Lionheart had said, but now her gaze snapped back to Rusty, her eyes blazing with fury. “There is never enough to go around,” she spat, advancing on a now terrified Rusty. “If you didn’t live such a soft and overfed life you would understand that!”

Despite his confusion over Bluestar’s sudden fury, Rusty knew that he had overstepped a line. The horrified look on Graypaw’s face, and the furious expressions on the older cats faces made that very clear to him. He shrunk in on himself, realising that he had spoken too freely in the presence of these cats. This wasn’t like the gardens. These cats were wild, and they fought for every bit of food they could get their paws on. Rusty’s pride dissolved. Now that he was faced with the furious gazes of hungry, mean and wild cats, his fear from earlier returned. These cats were no doubt going to finish what Graypaw had started, and in this instant, Rusty didn’t blame them one bit.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a few descriptions changed.

“Well?” Bluestar hissed, her face only a mouse-length from his now. Both Bluestar and Lionheart towered over Rusty, causing the young tom’s fur to stand on end.

Rusty flattened his ears and crouched under the combined weight of Bluestar’s furious gaze, and Lionheart’s cold one. He looked down at his trembling paws and said “I am no threat to your Clan.” He did not meet their eyes, scared that it would cause them to attack him.

“You threaten our Clan when you take our food!” yowled Bluestar furiously. “I’m sure you have more than enough food in that Twoleg nest of yours already. You only come here to hunt for sport, but we hunt for our survival.”

The truth of the magnificent warrior’s words pierced Rusty to his very core, and suddenly, Rusty understood her anger, her fury. These cats didn’t have owners to provide them with warmth, food, shelter or safety. They had to fend for themselves out here in the wild, with only themselves to keep them safe. Upon his understanding, Rusty stopped trembling and at up, his ears straightening as he locked eyes with Bluestar. “I’m sorry. I never thought about it in that way before.” He meowed solemnly. “I promise that I will not hunt here again.”

Bluestar slowly let her hackles fall, her fury cooling, and signalled for Lionheart to do the same. She stepped back from Rusty, causing him to relax more. “You are a very unusual kittypet, Rusty,” she meowed, all anger gone from her voice. Instead, her voice was full of approval. Had that been a test of some sort?

Graypaw sighing in relief beside him caused Rusty’s ears to twitch. Was this kit, a cat that he had never met before today, really so concerned about his safety? It caused a warm feeling to stir in Rusty. He promptly forgot the feeling when he caught a glimpse of Bluestar swapping a meaningful glance with Lionheart. The look shared between the two wildcats made Rusty incredibly curious. What had flashed between the two warriors? He flicked his ear. It wasn’t his business.

“Is survival here really so hard?” Rusty asked quietly, looking at the wildcats. Why would they continue living out here if it was so hard? He didn’t understand. Then Rusty looked around, gazing at the forest and taking it all in. Maybe he _could_ understand why

“Our territory covers only part of the forest,” Bluestar answered. “We compete with other Clans for what we have, and this twelve-month newleaf is late. That means prey is scarce and hard to find, making everything just that little bit more difficult.”

“Is you Clan very big?” Rusty meowed, is eyes wide and curious.

“Big enough,” replied Bluestar, amused by Rusty’s curiosity. “Our territory can support us, but there is no prey leftover for curious kittypets.” Rusty ducked his head, embarrassed, but he didn’t let his embarrassment stop him from being curious.

“Are all of you warriors?” He asked next. Bluestar’s guarded way of answering his questions were just making his curiosity grow.

“Some are warriors, but others are either too old or too young, or too busy caring for kits to hunt for the Clan.” It was Lionheart who answered him this time.

“And you all live and share prey together?” Rusty murmured, in awe of these wildcats. He then thought of his own life, which seemed so selfish compared to theirs. It made him feel guilty.

Bluestar and Lionheart shared another glance. After a moment Bluestar turned her gaze back to Rusty, meowing, “Perhaps you should find out these things for yourself. I would like to formally ask you if you would like to join ThunderClan.”

Rusty was speechless with surprise. They were offering _him_ a place in their Clan?

Bluestar continues: “If you did, you would train beside Graypaw to become a ThunderClan warrior.”

“But, kittypets can’t be warriors!” Graypaw blurted out, looking just as surprised as Rusty. “They don’t have warrior blood!” Graypaw’s words stung Rusty. Did Graypaw think that he couldn’t be a warrior?

A sad look clouded Bluestar’s eyes for a moment. “Warrior blood,” she echoed quietly. “Far too much of that has been spilled lately.”

Bluestar fell silent, losing herself in something dark. She shook her thoughts off and looked up to address Graypaw.

“You don’t always need warrior blood to be a warrior, Graypaw. Sometimes there are those born with a warrior spirit, and that is all you need.” Bluestar’s words warmed Rusty. She believed that he could be a warrior. He felt even warmer when Graypaw nodded, happy with the answer that he had been given.

“Remember, Bluestar is only offering you training. There is no guarantee that you would become a full warrior. It might prove too difficult for you. After all, you are used to a more comfortable life.” Lionheart meowed, giving Rusty a look that told him that Lionheart was not so sure about Rusty’s invitation into the Clan. His tone made Rusty angry.

“Why would you offer me the chance, then?” Rusty asked, raising his chin as he stared at Lionheart, before switching his gaze to Bluestar.

“You are right to question our motives young one. The fact is, ThunderClan needs more warriors, and we cannot wait for our young to grow. You, out of all the kittypets and rogues that we have been observing, show the most promise.” Answered Bluestar. Rusty appreciated her honesty.

“You must understand that Bluestar does not make this offer lightly,” warned Lionheart, drawing Rusty’s attention again. “If you wish to train with us, we will have to take you into our Clan. You must either live with us and respect our ways or return to your Twoleg nest and never come back to the forest. You cannot, under any circumstances, live with a paw in each world.”

A cool night breeze stirred the underbrush, ruffling Rusty’s fur softly. He shivered, but not with cold. He was excited. He was being offered the opportunity to do something that had only happened in his dreams! He would get to train beside Graypaw, a cat who he already admired so much. The idea of training with Graypaw decided it for him. He would grab this opportunity with both paws.

“Are you wondering if it’s worth it, giving up your kittypet life for a life full of hardship?” Asked Bluestar gently, her gaze soft. “Do you know what price you will have to pay to have your warmth and food?”

Rusty looked at her, his head tilted in puzzlement. What was she talking about? Surely this encounter with these wild cats proved to him just how luxurious his life was.

“I can tell that you are still a tom,” Bluestar added, her nose twitching slightly, “despite the Twoleg stench that clings to your fur.”

“Wait, what do you mean, _still_ a tom?” this just confused Rusty even more. What was the magnificent warrior talking about?

“You haven’t been taken to visit the Cutter by your Twolegs,” she replied gravely. “You would be very different then, young one. You would not be so keen to fight a Clan cat I suspect!” Bluestar burred, amused.

Rusty was incredibly confused. He still didn’t understand what she meant. Then his mind went to Henry and his sudden change after going to visit the vet. Was that what Bluestar meant when she said the Cutter?

“The Clan may not be able to offer you such easy food or warmth,” continued Bluestar, “but they will always care for you. In the season of leaf-bare, nights are cruel. The Clan will demand great loyalty and hard work from you. No one in the Clan is allowed to shrike their work and get away with it. You will be expected to protect the Clan, with your life if it becomes necessary. And there are many mouths to feed. The elders and the kits will always be fed first, so at times you may go hungry. The rewards of Clan life are great. You will remain a tom. You will be trained in the ways of the wild. You will learn what it is like to be a _real_ cat. The strength and the fellowship of the Clan will always be with you, even when you hunt and fight on your own.”

Rusty grew more excited. Bluestar was offering him so much! He couldn’t refuse. He wouldn’t refuse.

Lionheart spoke before Rusty could. “Come, Bluestar. Let’s not waste any more time here, We must be ready to join the other patrol at moonhigh. Tigerclaw will wonder what has become of us.” Lionheart turned to face the forest, looking over his shoulder at his leader, his apprentice and Rusty, flicking his tail expectantly.

“Wait!” Rusty meowed, taking a step forward, “Can I have one day to say goodbye to my old friends and my old life?”

Bluestar looked at Rusty, surprised. “You accept our offer? Do you not wish for time to think about it?”

Rusty shook his head. “No. I don’t need to think about it when I already know the answer. All that I ask is some time to say good bye to my old life.”

Bluestar looked at him for a long moment, before she nodded, a pleased tone in her voice. “Lionheart will be here tomorrow at sunhigh. Don’t be late.” And with that, Bluestar gave a low signal and all three wildcats disappeared into the underbrush, only their scents and the shaking leaves proof that they had existed at all.

Rusty blinked and stared at where the three cats had entered the underbrush. He was excited, uncertain, but so excited. Rusty looked up, past the ferns and the trees, and gazed at the glittering stars in the now clear sky. The scent of the Clan cats was heavy in the air, and it just made him more excited. This was happening. His dreams were coming true. A strange sensation grew inside of Rusty, unfurling within him like the flowers in his-no, not his anymore, in the _Twoleg_ garden. It tugged him back towards the depths of the forest, urging him to run after the Clan cats, to hunt and be _wild_. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze. The sound of the wind in the leaves seemed to be whispering his name, the shadows engulfing the sound before it could be heard. His fur prickled deliciously in that whispering wind.

And, was it just him, or did the stars seem just that little bit brighter now?


End file.
